


Wet

by Mssilverwoods



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25548547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mssilverwoods/pseuds/Mssilverwoods
Summary: The rain is so heavy that is runs freely from her hair and runs rivers into the open front of her dress. A chill wind blows her hair around her face. Somewhere in the distance is the sound of a band playing at party for someone important, whose name neither recall.They should be inside the hall.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 3
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've played around with canon, altering it to assume that Diana interrupted a fledging post-Antartica relationship. I find it odd to think that nothing would have happened, my other half is hard pushed to go to the shops to save me from a rainstorm! 
> 
> Two chapters.

Arlene had pushed the invites at them as they arrived for their monthly meeting with Skinner. He promptly encouraged them to go, and then insisted as both of them looked testily across the desk. He has unwittingly lit a fuse.

Perhaps the explosion is ignited in Scully’s choice of dress, a long sea grey velvet dress that showed, yet conversely hid, a million secrets as it ripples around her curves, slips open along one side to reveal the shape of her legs, slipped into thin heels that would, if Mulder stood closer to her, bring her mouth to his lips. She’s irritated that the fabric matches his tie, tethering them once more. The wool of his suit clung to places she once touched and and stroked.

Was this daring choice motivated by her torment over Diana? His expectant ex-something who arrived in the basement as she sighs over the invites with Mulder, briefly united to this man who held her heart since Bellefleur, in this maelstrom of unspoken feelings. Fowley’s presence had interrupted the start of a confession from Mulder. His words then became lost in the tense air, yet perhaps showed in his behaviour as he surprisingly, and tactfully announced, to both women that he’d be going alone - if he went at all.

She’d imagined... no longed... for her arm through his. Maybe a slow, scandalous dance for she wouldn't think either of them would hold each other like colleagues ought to. Perhaps he might not dance at all, but watch over her as she enjoyed other company but always returning to him, like magnets, defying anyone to understand their relationship. She’d kiss him in front of Fowley, or he may kiss her, his tongue sliding between her lips in a show of ownership. Then she’d sashay home with him, a metaphorical flipping them all off as the gossip moved onto who did what to who in which cupboard. 

The reality is a party with a hungry crowd of agents and office staff, the former prey for the desk bound in need of a promotion or a lay, maybe both. And one objectionable Mulder, who felt it necessary to glue himself to Scully. As Diana appears, two drinks in her hand, Mulder’s fingers flex on Scully's waist and he moves them away, his lips suddenly, briefly, whispering across her neck. She wills herself to be calm, as if this is Mulder's space to claim but she can’t resolve if he is merely using her as shield or genuinely had enough of his ex-whatever. 

There’s a new agent, Holly. She’s flashing her engagement ring. The junior has long harboured a crush on Mulder and Scully seeks a little regret in the girl’s eyes when her Mulder wishes her well. Her fiancée is Agent Pendrell, whom she’s rather fond of too. They dance away across the floor. Scully knows that their happiness would leave her yearning for something else, an edge of danger and heady lust. When Mulder sighs, she wonders if he feels the same.

She's never sure if he spoke the truth when he said was his touchstone. Tonight she’s not certain if she wants to dance those steps again, yet takes all of her will power not to claim him, to act on her imagination. He wanted her before, taken her before only to cast her away in the days that followed as Diana distracted him again. She remembers the feel of his skin beneath her fingers, and the all-consuming passion his kisses could ignite. Before him there had been nothing, just sex that did not stir her blood. His first kiss, the first intrusion of his tongue into her mouth, the first time they pressed each other close, every sigh, all the words spoken. All these things she remembers.

She was too quiet and patient, then ignored and accused of being personal; her evidence left to rot in the hands of the Gunmen. Secret phone calls, Fowley’s fingers on his. Her invasion of his home, a space in which Scully had once felt safe, had come to a head in the hours after she found herself violated by the contamination shower. 

The slap she awarded to his cheek in the darkness of his apartment seemed to stop the air in their lungs. The wind which was howling through the streets was deadened by his panting and her gasp. Their world tipped a little on its axis when she refused to apologise. If being loud made him listen, then she would shout all the more and yell his name until he heard her rage. 

Dana Scully might used the late hour as the excuse for her behaviour. That she was still trying to find her strength after whatever force had stormed through their complacency to capitulate them from good friends to irritated acquaintances. All she recalls with absolute certainty is standing by Mulder’s apartment door, desperate to feel his mouth on hers, praying Diana wasn’t there.

She still feels the roughness of that only encounter, the bruises he left on her skin, as he ravished her body. The power of being his as she stood with legs spread and sex dripping while he watched, then pulled at his clothes to release himself. She’s almost died so many times, why the hell not. What is the worst that life can throw at her? The only conclusion she keeps arriving at is that she had never loved him in the way she’s wanted too. Like she assumes Diana has, and he no longer belongs to the past. That if she was to go to her grave never sating this bone-shaking, soul eating desire, she would haunt him for all his days.

Sinking to her knees she had wrapped her dirty mouth around him, strained to fit him until he pulled away, turning her away and over his desk. Then came the hot and furious bliss of penetration followed by the stretch across her thighs as he parted her legs wide, easing himself into her heat, stretching and filling her. Into the darkness he told her just how badly he wanted to fuck her. Wanted her. Loved her. Commanded her to come for him as he released himself in a frenzy of violent thrusts.

She remembers that he’d been tender afterwards, apologetic. He’d carried her to his room, laid her on his bed and soothed those places that his greedy hands had bruised. His kisses were like wildfire and she burned for him. He drank down the warm fluids that glistened there, and ran his tongue around her until she couldn't think coherently, never mind pay attention to his needs.

She remembers now how he had made her moan, how she had bucked her hips and begged him for more. He had been generous then, leading them through a journey of powerful orgasms, until exhausted, she drifted into sleep.

Was it love, she thought, or desire, maybe only an all-devouring lust that filled her every waking moment since that moment. It had been just days since they had rolled around the bed in the rapture that comes after making love. Yet this desire feels like it's been in her a lifetime. The image of his face in her mind and the memory of those moments complete her. Once known, his passion was not something to forget. It clung to her, stayed with her, and permeated every moment since, and yet he has stayed away from her.

To touch or not to touch? In front of the guests at the party it was hard to know what she should do. What does Mulder want her to be? Who is she? This is not the woman who was unnerved by Fowley. His hands on her changed this. She feels extraordinarily powerful but vulnerable as if he can slip away from her at any moment. Is this life she should have taken years ago? His hand holding hers, or floating in the dip of her spine, once an innocent gesture, sends her flesh into tingling ecstasies. She knew it would change them even if he had denied it would, she hadn't expected that he would be the one to falter.

No one should notice Mulder and Scully’s early absence since nobody was expecting to see them, but they all see that her dress matches his tie. His arm around her waist means they are a source of wonder as always. Yet they seem to escape into thin air as befits Mr and Mrs Spooky. She’s all but thrown in her lot anyway. Her reputation may as well follow, it lies in tatters like the party streamers, her heart flickering like the lights in the ballroom.

Scully feels oddly naked in her dress and recognises the look of desire in his face. They have circled each other, making polite small talk for at least an hour and the hunger for him is driving her insane, but she won’t give in to him. Not yet. Mulder, despite his stormy, lustful gaze, is cautious now that they are outside. He makes no move for her.

She considers sating the growing desire within her now. There's an almost overwhelming urge to sink to the ground and please herself, make him watch just so he knows she can do without him fine, thank you, but in truth she knows that his gaze will make her come undone long before her hands. And there's no chance he'll be an idle spectator.

Her body is wet from the rain, and the coldness of it arouses her. The feeling of wet hair against her neck excites her, but she is afraid to risk his touch, thinking that tonight he might finally divide her from her reason. She knows that if he becomes a frequent lover, he will be more than any other man. She cannot bear to wait so long for his attention. She would rather walk away and be allowed to forget, make him a distant, loving memory. A man who once spoiled her but never ruined her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I didn't want it to be hackneyed, then I wasn't happy with the perspectives and I thought, dammit, I'll post anyway! I hope it's okay. I wanted to mull over if Mulder rejected Scully after their first time, not the other way around and why he might do that.. as a vague structure, mostly I'm attempting to write something 'mature'!

He studies her, wondering who she is tonight, for she is often new and strange to him. Sometimes she is a friend to him, a teacher, doctor or protector. He recalls many times when she’s been mistaken as his wife. Still he couldn't not tell anyone what Scully means to him. Everything and everyone might almost cover it. There is no conventional definition.

At times she is alive, she breathes and moves for him, she bestows warm glances on him that soothe the chaos in his heart. Perhaps tonight she will retreat once more into her shell. He knows what lies within that darkness and the feelings she will stir in him, remembers the longing and the misery of her absences.

He wants to speak, to find some words that will tame her and render her comprehensible to him, but he is lost, and no thoughts come to his aid.

He thinks that she is in love with him, Padgett said so, but he dare not ask.

Scully brushes her hair with her fingers, where the wind has wrapped it around her face. His job, he thinks and his fingers can feel the synaesthesic tangle of it. The movement of her arm lifts her right breast, shows it to him more clearly, and he watches the shape of it beneath her dress. He watches her, wonders, and fights the urge to reach towards her, knowing that as soon as he does, he will let go of the scant control he has. She glances across, and now they are both remembering. She shivers, remembering with a growing clarity, just how violently erotic he could be. 

She takes his hand and marches him though the grounds. Their breath the only sound as they eventually arrive at a locked gate. He's unpicked it within seconds and pushes her through, turning the barrel behind them. She wonders if they’ll stay here forever, trapped in place where the darkness of their losses can’t touch them.

'I feel envious of Holly and Pendrell.’ Mulder breaks the silence, gazing around the small lawned space, rain dripping down his face, off his lashes and onto his cheeks. These are not the words he wanted to say but they are place to start, it’s what she would expect from him. 

‘What? Why?’ Scully wonders why this is important to him. Yet she waits, thankful that he’s saying something.

Mulder paces forward, the incoming storm in this relentless rain cloud. ‘They have a good life. That's what you should have, Dana. A stable life with a sensible man.’

Scully is unbalanced by the rare use of her first name and wonders where this is going. This isn’t not what she wants to listen to.

His mood is infectious and floods her response, ‘Who says I want sensible man and an account at Macy’s or whatever the fuck sensible people do these days. Jesus, Mulder, did you think to ask, before you decide for me? Is that why you shut me out?’

‘I can’t give you all that however much I love you.' Mulder continues in a tone that allows no room for argument. With anyone else it might work, but she thinks it’s worth a fight with the demons who have made him feel so worthless that he’ll throw love away. Then it occurs to her that he said he loved her and he’s going to break her heart anyway.

“Say it again” She demands and he falters.

“I love you.” He confesses.

He’s surprised when she moves closer, he’d anticipated that she would run out on him. Every scenario in his head lately has her handing in her notice, transferring or simply disappearing into darkness. 

But here she is. Where she’s always been. He watches, transfixed and bemused as she pulls her dress up over her head. He looks at her, glistening in the rain, the water running down her breasts and dripping onto the ground below. She raises her arms to the skies, and lets the rain wash over her. 

It is harder for him to catch up; his coat now heavy with water but while she moves in a slow dance across the lawn, he frees himself rapidly, not caring who sees or what follows, knowing only that he cannot resist the temptation she has offered. 

She stays beyond his reach, her movements seductive, provocative as she leads him deeper into the darkness. He is conscious of the rain seeping through his clothes, of the muddy water that splashes his legs and the cold, stone riddled ground beneath their feet. She moves like a beacon before him and he cannot help but follow. The night folds in around them, and he never loses sight of her.

Mulder is brought to a halt suddenly by the warmth of her body against his. She is shivering from the rain, but her skin burns and he wraps his arms about her. A sense of completion rushes through him. This, after all, is where they should have always been. 

Her mouth is hot, and wet from the falling rain as she raises it to meet his. Water drips from him into her face, but where their bodies meet they are warmed by the growing lust that drives them finally to the ground. They no longer notice the cold, as bound to one another they forget all else but this passion that haunts them. It is as it has always been, and lost in each other above the yielding earth of the garden. 

She rides him, mounted high like a goddess, her hair framing her skin as the moon appears from behind a cloud to illuminate her beauty. He is enchanted by the rhythm of her body overlapping his, by the tight press of her around his hungry cock. Where she touches him, his skin erupts into life. He hovers on the brink of orgasm, waiting for her, determined that she will come first. When finally she arches her back and releases the cry of pleasure he knows so well, he lets go, feeling the hot rush of fluid ecstasy.

It is not enough. There is a a question in his soul that he cannot satisfy. 

“What did Padgett mean?”

He is startled when she says, 'I love you more than anyone else ever loved you before.’

He believes her.


End file.
